Tug
by banalnadas
Summary: About eight years before the events of Revelation and Mass Effect, Kai Leng discovers raw talent aboard a outlaw space station. Some language and references to mature content.
1. Chapter 1

Coop tugged at the tape, wrapping it again around her hands. She wiggled her fingers, just to be sure that she could, and wrapped again. Around her, everyone was busy, people brushed behind her on her bench, the wind from their movements rustling her long dark hair. Her brown eyes stayed focused on her task, but her ears listened.

She was a fighter, ever since she could remember. People looked at her, and thought her weak when they stepped into the ring. Sneered and looked at the crowd, determined that it was a joke. Raised their hands to get a response from the crowd. The crowd knew. They played it up, as always.

She would stand still, right on that little bit of tape they put there for the fighters so she knew where to stand. When they got tired of waiting, they would lunge for her, and she would turn just in time. They would fall on their face, or their hands, and she would watch, hands tucked inside each other behind her back. They would make a snide remark, usually something pertaining to that being a woman, she was weak and sly. She would usually respond with a smirk.

Then they would try again. Maybe a grab at her hair, a hard right hook, a sweep. A block, and a hit, usually somewhere around the gut. Or the ribs. She would hit a pressure point, and they would back up, fall down and get up, curse her under their breath.

Coop would start bouncing on the balls of her feet, back and forth, keeping the momentum going. No one ever lasted more than a couple minutes anymore, and it didn't matter how large they were. Her trick wasn't just fighting, not that she wasn't good. She had plenty of experience; her trick was mindgames. She took everything she had as an advantage and turned it just right so it seemed like a weakness.

She ripped the tape with her teeth, tucking the remainder into her locker and slamming it shut. She stood. She wore the same short black shorts, one single white stripe down the side, and the plain white shirt she always wore. They made sure it was low cut.

An average person in the crowd thought that she did it for fun, that this was her bread and butter, what she enjoyed, like an asari dancing in the club. She was good at it, right, so why shouldn't she? Why deny it?

"_Ancilla," _one of the guardmen said to her, and she nodded to him as he opened the door for her. She was used to it by now; it was practically an official nickname. Slave-girl.

Coop walked out into the small tunnel leading to the ring, hands hooked together and stretching above her, cracking her back. She let out a deep sigh of relief. A few fights, and then she could go back, eat some food, get some sleep. Repeat it all tomorrow.

The roar of the crowd met her ears a few seconds later; they were aboard one of the many roaming illegal colonies sprouting up throughout the galaxy. Criminals of all stripes, people on holidays, people stopping for supplies, or wanting a new plaything… it didn't matter. There weren't any regulations here. She was owned by a batarian who had kept her only because she was so young at the time. His guards had taken a liking to her, probably because she wasn't afraid of them, and had taught her how to fight. Now, no one touched her unless she agreed to it. Even her owner couldn't control her that much.

She blotted out the noise as she slid between the metal ropes of the ring. She made a little show of stretching—it always increased the betting—and then stood on her little marked spot. She checked her nails, and dug out some dirt that had crept underneath one. She heard the announcer dimly: it had been a long time since she had actually paid attention to that. Someone would show up, she would beat them, and then she would leave.

Three people climbed into the ring: a human, an asari, and a turian. It sounded like a really bad joke, honestly. She looked dully into the crowd, tempted to fake a yawn. Instead, she just stretched again, this time leaning all the way back and popping up on her hands.

"Being flexible isn't going to save you, little girl," the asari hissed, and Coop grinned at her.

"Ooh, someone isn't very nice. What's the matter? Boyfriend die?" The asari lunged for her, blue face twisted with fury, and all Coop had to do was to push off to land on her feet to the side. The asari faceplanted where she had been and began to get back up in rage.

Biotics were banned, but she wouldn't put it past any of them to use it on her. She kept on her toes, mostly using aversion and diversion tactics to keep away from all three of them. Finally, bloody and bruised, they wised up. Two caught her, one on each arm, and the third approached, his mandibles clicking as he looked her over.

"Shouldn't you be asking for release, human? Will dying here be a welcome refuge from the slavery you've been forced into?"

She didn't think that merited a response. She headbutted him, then slammed the side of her body the asari was holding to the ground, throwing her off balance. She used the momentum to slam up a leg between the human's, and he dropped almost instantly, a howl permeating the ring.

She slammed a boot down onto the asari's chest, pushing her back onto the ground and into the turian, who toppled beneath her. The asari raced to get back up, biotics bending the air around her—

A batarian stepped in, gun stuck into the asari's face. "No biotics," he said simply, and when she blasted him away from her and into Coop, a sniper took her out, splattering them both with purple blood.

Beneath the batarian, Coop was laughing. The crowd had gone silent, but slowly the cheer began, and then it became louder. She pushed him off of her, and as he stood, he offered her a hand up, which she accepted. Other batarians were pushing the turian and human out of the ring, and another was dragging out the asari by her feet. Just a typical day in the cage, right?

"You alright?" She wondered, slapping his arm, and he nodded, tucking his gun away.

"You okay?"

"Fine as ever," she replied with a wink, then turning to face the crowd to their backs. They roared as she did, and she raised up her arms, covered as she was with purple blood, and let out a roar of her own.

The crowd answered. Or at least, most of the crowd. One man had his eyes narrowed at the ring, and the girl parading around in it now. Why would the batarians have stepped in to protect the fighter? One fighter? Even if the others had broken the rules?

"Be back here tomorrow night, 1800, to watch Coop defeat yet another opponent," came a loud drawl over the PA, and he looked up, eyes squinting a little in interest. A set up? An employee? Or something different?

He wasn't here for this; he was on a separate assignment, and had had to stop here for some minor repairs to his ship; it really wasn't worth getting into. Still, if he wanted to pursue this, he needed to talk to his boss. He slipped away, out of the crowd and the arena, and off into a back alley. He could hear fucking a few feet away, but he was very good at ignoring that by now. He loaded up the comm, and it was answered, audio only, a few seconds later.

"This is important?"

"The Cage. Batarians have a suspected human slave."

A heavy sigh.

"What are you doing on the Cage, Leng? Aren't you tracking a human fugitive?"

"I stopped to get a part, and ran across the ring. She's a fighter. We could use her."

"We, or you? Because if you get her, she's your responsibility, not mine. Is that clear?"

He watched as a foot appeared from the fucking couple. "Yes."

"Good. Get rid of that alien trash and get your mission completed. I expect you back in seven days. Both of you."

"We'll be there," he promised, and the line disconnected. He smiled despite himself, and cracked his knuckles, a habit he usually detested… but he rather crack them now rather than against a batarian's jawline later.

Leng slipped back into the arena, which was still quite full, and made his way to the other side of the ring where he saw a few large batarians standing watch in front of a door. He approached fearlessly, keeping his face straight with some work, and, as he suspected, they moved to block the doorway. Eight eyes were boring into him then.

"Get lost, human," the one on his right said, jutting his small chin out to the ring. "Nothing for you here."

"I'm here to see Coop," he said calmly, and they both smirked, the one on the left laughing a little. "She's not available, kid. Plenty of brothels here; don't know if you could afford them though."

"I am here to see her. Take me inside, or I will knock you both out and go in anyway."

The two glanced at each other, trying to determine if he was joking or not. "Look, what's your business? What's so damned important?"

"I want to offer her a job."

"She's not for hire," one batarian said, smirking a little too wide.

"Is that so? How much are they selling her for?"

Any chance of humour was lost then, and a batarian came out of the door that had been guarded, grabbed Leng by the back of his neck, and dragged him inside. He was pushed into another room and into a stiff, and itchy, chair. He looked up as he got his bearings and found a very… large… batarian in front of him, chewing on a cigar.

"Look, kid, she ain't for sale. I don't appreciate a human coming around and threatening my guys and livelihood, you knows?"

"I do know," he said, leaning forward a little, fingers locked and elbows on his knees. "How much."

"Not. For. Sale."

"Please," he said in a dismissive tone. "Everyone has a price. Name it. You could buy ten more of her with it, I bet."

"Twenty," the batarian countered, and Leng barely acknowledged it with a slight upturn of his lips.

"A price."

The large alien eyed him, then leaned over to scribble a number on a slip of paper, and slid it over so Leng could see it. He did.

"I can wire it to your immediately," he said in an even tone, "provided I own her immediately."

The batarian hesitated, then took the cigar out of his mouth and leaned forward a little towards him. "What are you going to do with her? Marry her?"

Leng raised his eyebrows, more than a little surprised. "No. She has talent. My company needs people like her. Me having to stop here was no coincidence."

Their eyes, all six of them, met each other, and Leng didn't blink. Finally, the batarian grunted. "She's safe here."

"I'll keep her safe. She'll be the best." When the batarian didn't respond, Leng added, "How long has she been with you?"

"Twelve years," he said immediately, cigar back into his mouth. "Stowaway, actually. One of my guards found her; she was four. Snuck on on one of the colonies, I assume. Not afraid of us, probably because she had been watching us for so long. Most human kids are terrified of us, you know that?"

"With due cause. You do turn us into slaves."

"Ah, well, its also the eyes, I guess." He started digging in his desk for his lighter. Leng had a spark of annoyance. "Guards kind of liked her at that point. We had just sold off our last batch before coming to the Cage, so the ship was empty. They fed her and told her stories." He shrugged. "She earned her keep long before she started to fight here." Silence permeated between them for a minute, in which the batarian lit his cigar. "You're giving her a way out. Knew it was only a matter of time. Don't tell me who; don't let her come back."

"Then we have a deal?"

The batarian blew out a puff of smoke and stood, which Leng did immediately as well. The shook hands, Leng more than reluctantly, and then they were both on their omnitools: Leng was having the money wired from his personal account (he couldn't imagine the Illusive Man's face if he took it from his company account), and the batarian was having her brought to his office.

"She'll be waiting outside in a minute," he said as a dismissal, and Leng nodded, and left quickly. The amount of emotion that had been through the conversation surprised him, actually. The batarians had cared for a human girl? Odd. Strange. If he hadn't heard it for himself, he would have thought it absolutely ridiculous and impossible.

He waited. The batarians eyed him, but didn't comment, and went about their business. After a very long few minutes, she appeared, hands unwrapped and bag over her shoulder. "I've been told to go with you," she said, though she sounded confused and skeptical. He nodded, looking over her, and turned to leave. No one tried to stop him, and the guards opened the doors for them. He heard her have to rush to keep up with him. "Hello?" She wondered.

"I'll explain everything when we're off this station," he muttered from the side of his mouth, not looking at her.

"Look, if you expect me to—"

"All I ask is that we are silent while on this station. As soon as we get on my ship, ask anything you wish." She nodded visibly, and he continued to lead the way. Once they reached the docks, his pace quickened, and she had to rush to keep up.

He punched the controls to his ship, which would have opened anyway with his omnitool, and they both stepped inside to be disinfected. As soon as the door was closed behind them, she collapsed to the floor, bag dropping.

"Okay, what the fuck?" She wondered, looking up at him.

"I bought you and the funds might not quite be what I promised your previous owner."

"Wait, what?"

He gave her a very sly grin. "I suggest we leave. It is much better if the authorities not find us here." He walked through the doors as they opened, and she scrambled to follow.

"You bought me?"

"Yes," he said simply, slipping into his pilot's seat and powering on the engine. He glanced back at her. "Sit down." She sat in the co-pilot's seat, and strapped on her seatbelt without him having to say a word.

"So… I'm still a slave."

"If you want to be," he said in a dull tone, eyes up on the panels, then back down to the screen as he plotted the course. "Entirely up to you."

"I'm… free to choose?"

"I represent an elite group of humans, fighting to protect human causes. I wanted you, and I offer to train you. However, the choice is yours. I can simply drop you off at the next stop, if you so wish." They pull off the station, and he speeds off, pretending not to hear the alarms starting from below. She did, and turned to watch it recede, and then to him, looking at him with a careful eye. He let her for a moment before he glanced at her with a small smile.

"I don't even know your name."

"And you will not until you make your decision," he answered simply, leaning back into his chair and turning to look at her. "You can take all the time you need."


	2. Chapter 2

Coop looked back at him, and then out the front screen, eyebrows furrowing a little. They sat there for a long time, and he had infinite patience. He let her think, pulling up a novel on his screen and reading, all in complete silence. Finally, she took in a breath and looked at him again.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Something else? Yes," he looked up at her, finger closing the screen with the novel without looking back at it.

"What would you do?"

"I wasn't given a choice, but then, I didn't want one," he said simply, twirling his chair to face hers fully. "I was… rescued, and my life belonged to the company." He shrugged. "You, however, were not a high-risk rescue. You were my choice. My boss made it quite clear that if you were with us, you're with me, and I am fully responsible for you. It won't be easy, but it'll be fun." He made a vague gesture. "Mostly. You'll be paid, of course, and completely provided for." He watched as her face visibly went through all of this new information. She was still considering. He had to make sure. "If you decide to leave, I will simply drop you off with your bag and a few credits and say goodbye. You'd have your freedom either way; I'm offering you a career along with it."

"You said I could choose to be a slave?"

"If you would prefer that, then I would be fine with that arrangement," he said simply, leaning forward a little. "You wouldn't get paid, but I would provide for you. You would have to do everything I said, and only me. You would grace my bed whenever it pleased me, killed when I commanded, and clean and cook, of course," he said, almost dismissively.

She stared at him, face completely blank, and she couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Was he joking? Did he know how? "Except for being paid, I don't see much of a difference," she said in an equally serious tone of voice, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into almost a smile. His eyes, however, twinkled at her.

"There isn't much. As a slave, you'd be with me forever, or until I sold you off to the highest bidder, if you ever irked me. As an employee, you could move up. I would be training you to do as I do, and, eventually, you won't need me or want me around anymore. As an old man, I would only slow you down."

"You're not that old," she replied immediately, smirking slightly.

He made a small noise. "By the time you were better than me, I would be."

She smiled fully now, which he answered with a smile of his own as he leaned back into his chair.

"Have you come to a decision?"

"Alright," she said simply with a nod. "I agree to your terms as an employee of this company."

"Oh, good," he said, getting up in a swift motion of unbuckling the safety belt and pulling out a knife from the back of his belt. She pulled immediately back into her seat, away from him, but he caught her by the arm, running a firm hand up the inside of her arm as she struggled to get away from him—well really his knife.

He found the tracker. He made a clean slice into her arm and pulled it out with swift fingers. A patch of omnigel was on her arm before she realized what had happened, and he was into the depths of his ship. She stood and followed, holding her arm. "Fuck!" She called after him, and he grunted in response.

Coop found him as he had put the tracker on the steel table and was smashing it into smithereens. As she watched, he then ran a shock through the table, and the tracker sparked, caught fire, and fizzled out of existence. He then turned to look at her. "One," he said simply.

He took her and placed her in the middle of the doorway and punched in a code to the panel on the side. She stood there, eyes on him, looking increasingly nervous with each passing second and _beep_ and after a few more cuts, she was deemed clean.

He touched her cheek with soft fingers then. "I had to be sure."

She was suddenly overcome with emotion. She threw herself at him, arms over his shoulders, having to pop up on her tiptoes to accomplish such a feat, and hugged him fiercely. He stood there for a moment or two, entirely unsure of what to do, but let her sob into his shoulder and neck. Eventually, he dropped his knife and wrapped his arms protectively around her. This gave way to a new wave of emotion as she clung to him firmer.

She gasped out words at this point, trying to convey her gratitude, which he silenced with simple, 'its okay,' and 'its over,' and 'it'll be alright.' Eventually, the tears stopped, and, feeling foolish, she pulled away quickly, turning her back to him as she tried to dry her face with her shirt and hands.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she managed after a few minutes, and he raised his eyebrows from where he was cleaning off his knife, pretending like it didn't affect him as well. "I'm not usually…"

"You have nothing to prove to me. You have nothing that you have to do now but enjoy your freedom. I, on the other hand, am still on assignment. If you are up to it when we arrive, you are of course free to assist me."

"Yes. Yes of course," she said, turning to face him. "You never told me your name. Now, you can, right?"

He held out his right arm to her. "Kai Leng," he stated.

She took his arm to the elbow, grasping it warmly. "Lisbet Cooper."

"What should I call you?"

"Lis is fine. On assignment or in public, Coop is better to catch my attention. And what about you?"

"Either name in private. On assignment, you can call me Leng, or nothing at all. Specifics will be given out before each mission."

"And the company?"

"Cerberus," he said simply, noticing that she hadn't let go of the arm grasp, and indeed had taken a step closer. He had to adjust his gaze as he looked down at her.

"Do you have any food," she whispered up at him.

"Its not naughty to say you're hungry," he whispered back, amused.

"But if I whisper it I…" Her eyes dropped and so did her arm, and she stepped back. Coop took in a few deep breaths before she looked up at him. "I'm hungry, and I'm sure you are too. Where's the mess? I'll make us something," she said in a clear tone. He jammed his thumb vaguely to a door on the far side of the lab, which led down to the living quarters, and she immediately went to it.

He leaned forward a little to watch her as she left, nearly cutting himself as he brought his knife back up to clean. It brought his attention back to the task, which he finished within a minute. He took a few more to clean up the mess they had made with cleaning her, then picked up her bag and tugged it downstairs with him.

Leng dropped her bag in front of the door to his bedroom, not entirely sure where else to put it, and sidled into the mess. He was met with warm, homey smells, and he spotted her over in front of the stove. He came up behind her, peering over her shoulder.

"That smells amazing," he muttered, eyes onto the pan. She jumped a little, but tried to play if off.

"Good. Please tell me you haven't been eating instant noodles and MREs?" She wondered, looking up at him. He didn't answer for a long minute.

"They're easy to eat while doing reports."

"Kai," she said in a scolding tone, looking back down into the pan, which was simply eggs and sausages. There was silence for a few seconds as she stirred the eggs.

"I don't think anyone has called me by my first name in a very long time," he said finally as he stepped away to pull down two plates. She took the pan from the burner as he did and distributed the breakfast food on both plates.

"Me either, actually," she replied with a small shrug. "_Ancilla_, mostly." He gave her a curious look. "It means 'slave girl.' They weren't exactly the most creative swine."

"It sounds pretty. Quite misleading, actually." He pulled out two forks and set one on her plate, then leaned against the counter, using his fork to investigate the eggs. She watched him, eating her eggs slowly and quietly. "Thank you for cooking," he said before beginning to eat. She nodded in an acknowledgement, and they ate in silence for a few minutes.

"You can call me that if you want."

"No, I can't," he replied instantly. He was cutting the sausage with the side of his fork, and didn't look up at her.

"If you think its pretty, Kai…"

"Lis. There is nothing more degrading than someone calling you such an awful name. Your name is much prettier. Leave that life behind you."

"Its not that simple," she said stubbornly. "That's all I know! I don't even know what my real name is? I just—I just made one up when they asked me. Or maybe they gave it to me? I don't—I don't know."

He stabbed a piece of sausage with his fork and looked at her with an exhausted, yet concerned, look. "I will call you anything you wish. You can create a new name. You can be literally anyone. We will create new memories for you." He popped the piece of fake-meat into his mouth and chewed as they stared at each other.

"O-okay," she said hesitantly, a little surprised that she even had said that aloud to begin with. She took his empty plate from him and put them both into the dishwasher. He let her, and then cleared his throat a little.

"Are you tired?"

"A little," she admitted, looking up at him.

"Me too."

Silence, more than a little awkward, followed. He made a move towards where he set down her bag. "Here's your bag. That room there is mine—I think I have another cot somewhere. You can take the bed." She followed, a smile lingering on her lips.

"Are you sure? You don't want company?"

He turned to look at her quickly. "I don't want to set a precedent. You're my protégé, not my prisoner—You owe me nothing."

"Kai, I don't mind. I'll… feel safer knowing you're right next to me." She was staring up at him with large, brown eyes, warm and sad, and he frowned a little. There she was, tugging at his heartstrings. Again.

"I could sleep on the floor beside you."

"You don't want to sleep with me?"

His eyebrows raised up at the phrase.

"No! I didn't mean—" She sighed, eyes dropping to her feet. "Please. Its my first night free. I'd prefer if you were right there beside me. That's all I wish."

He considered her for a moment. "Alright, Lis." He bent and picked up her bag, and strode inside his room. It was bare, like most of the ship, but especially so since he spent so little time here. He had a small closet, a washroom, a bed and a nightstand which held nothing more than a lamp, his clock, and the novel he was reading (on a datapad). He set down her bag in front of the closet and sat down at the edge of the bed to take off his boots. He kept his eyes from her deliberately.

Coop let out a deep breath, and then bent down to dig in her bag for her toiletries. She didn't have much, so it didn't take long. She also picked up shorts and a long shirt, which was the closest approximation she had to pajamas, and disappeared into the washroom. When she emerged again, she was wearing the shorts and shirt, face washed, teeth brushed—and staring.

Leng was on the opposite side of the room, doing pull-ups in the doorway, shirt off even though he wouldn't sweat. She set down her things and went to sit on the bed, watching him. He noticed, and continued because he wasn't going to shortchange himself. She began to braid her long hair as she watched him, biting her lip a little, which only made him smirk.

When Leng finished, he, too, disappeared into the washroom. He took much less time than her, and then he was lying down on the bed beside her. He pulled the book up on the datapad and began to read where he had left off earlier in the evening. He wasn't surprised when, a moment later, she appeared at his shoulder, hair against his bare skin softly.

"Whatcha reading?" She wondered in a whisper.

"Wuthering Heights," he replied in the same tone.

"Sounds…. Interesting."

"Its an old Earth novel. I don't read much else besides reports."

She scooched a little closer, an arm hooking through his, fingers carefully stroking his muscles. He pretended not to care, still reading.

"What is it about?"

He made a noncommittal noise. "It's a narrative. Its not supposed to be 'about' anything." He looked at her, and she looked right back. "Did you ever learn to read?"

"Why does a fighter need to read?" The bitterness was full on in her voice now, and he set down the datapad on his stomach. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling instead of at him. "I taught myself, since no one would teach me. I can't write, but I can read."

"If there's anything you ever want to learn, you only have to ask," he told her softly, setting the datapad back on the nightstand and tugging up the covers. She conceded and got under them as well, curling up on her pillow. "It's a very archaic thing to do, to not teach a slave, or anyone, to read." He tucked his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling before reaching over to turn off the lamp with a tap. They were immersed in darkness then.

"They taught me other things," she said, and he could hear her shrug. He didn't reply, and there was silence between them. He closed his eyes, wondering if sleep would come but assuming it wouldn't. He shifted to his side, trying to get comfortable. His mind began to wander, from everything from Lockwood (from the novel), to Coop and her rescue, to how he could manage to rip out four batarian eyes all at once.

How many pieces could he cut one up in in one sweep? The thought made a smile cross his face, sleepy and sadistic.

"Kai?"

He jumped. Her voice had been quiet, but it still startled him. His eyes opened to look at her. Her arms were around his neck instantly, face buried into his hair. He heaved out a long sigh as he felt her shake with silent tears, free arm falling around her and pulling her in, tight and secure. Her hands retreated to his chest, nuzzling up under his chin, and he harbored no objections to this, but bore it silently.

"I won't let anything hurt you," he promised her in a quiet voice.

"I know," she managed. "Its just… a lot."

"I know." His arm tightened around her a little as a reassurance. "Even your dreams can't hurt you. I'll show up and kick them in the quad."

She laughed a little against his skin, then pulled back to look at him. He looked back at her, eyebrow raising.

"I'm serious," he whispered. "It'll hurt. They'll be writhing on the ground and then you can—" Her entire body shifted up, causing him to stop mid-sentence and pull back instinctively. She kissed his jawline softly before settling back into him like nothing had happened, and pretending that she didn't notice how tense he was for entire minutes afterwards. She wound a leg through his and closed her eyes with a small yawn.

He held her still, and after a few minutes, he relaxed. He hadn't expected that. Yes he had. It was the entire reason he had been reluctant to allow them to even be in the same room. He couldn't get attached, not in this line of work. He had made that mistake before, hadn't he? Never again.

Eventually, she drifted off to sleep. He settled her onto the pillow beside his, and then pulled out his book again. He wasn't going to get any sleep, so might as well make the hours where she was productive.


End file.
